Breaking of a Stallion
by Commander Fiction
Summary: Taking place after the 2009 movie. Leonard didn't think Spock was serious when he said "a stallion must first be broken to reach its potential". He also didn't think Jim would ever be that broken, until he was. Jim&Bones. Totally random guys, enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Breaking of a Stallion**

Leonard McCoy had told Spock that day if he were to ride in the Kentucky Derby, he wouldn't leave his prized stallion in the stable. Of course he was talking about Jim Kirk; the stupid bastard had gotten himself stranded on Delta Vega for mutiny. And Spock, following right along with it had said that it was curious metaphor considering that a stallion must first be broken before it can reach its potential.

He didn't think Spock was being literal at the time, because Jim was being a bitch and yeah, the blond moron managed to piss off everyone on the Bridge, even himself. So when Spock said that he didn't think much of it. Not until Jim had managed to get back on board, saving everyone's lives in the end of that giant black hole trying to suck them in. Terrifying as it was, only minutes after escaping it, the adrenaline that had been coursing through every crew members' body had disappeared, leaving them all exhausted.

A couple hours ago Leonard finished surgery on Captain Pike; he of course was going to make it, with a few minor complications. The inactive captain lies asleep in Medbay, amongst the wreckage.

Leonard now has the duty of caring for all the patients. By now the critical have all been treated and almost everyone has been accounted for, dead and alive. The Medbay itself seems to be overflowing, yet somehow still functioning with its minimum staffing. He himself has been on duty for countless hours; he's already lost count of how many stimulants he's taken.

It's only a tap on his shoulder that makes his head spin, and he almost falls over on his heels. God, he'd been zoning out for only god knows long.

"Doctor McCoy?"

Chapel is standing before him, her face reddened with exertion from the day, yet her eyes gleam somewhat hopeful despite the death lingering in their midst.

"Yes?" He licks his lips, clearing his throat, trying to look as professional as he can.

"Doctor, you were supposed to be relieved of duty after Captain Pike's surgery sir."

Right, he forgot about that. Apparently he'd just been so caught up in treating and taking care of everyone else that in the act of helping he'd forgotten that he was supposed to get some much needed rest.

"It's fine, really." He waves her off with a chuckle, because damn it, there are still people in needing of attention.

But the look on her face has him wheeling, "Doctor, I can reassure you that Medbay will function just fine without you. Now please, the sooner you rest, the sooner you can relieve another doctor for rest."

He nods, it makes sense, he just doesn't really know where to go.

"You have the chief medical officer's quarters." Chapel informs him.

That's right; he's the chief medical officer now. He almost sighs, so much has happened, its taking a lot of time to process all of it.

"Do you need help finding it?"

Damn, he must've just stared at her or something. He coughs, shaking his head, "No thank you nurse, I can find it on my own."

The blonde nurse manages a warming smile, before heading off, leaving him to his own resources.

Blinking a few more times, he gets himself to leave Medbay, quite reluctantly still, but gets to his quarters nonetheless. He's barely gotten himself out of his dirty boots and clothes before he's crashing into the cushions of the mattress, his body sinking away into the bliss of the softness of it.

All the tense muscles in his back fade and his thoughts disappear into the dark. His eyes flutter shut and he can sense his breathing growing shallow with sleep.

Then, how could he be so stupid? How could he possibly forget? He's such a dumbass.

The door opens and light floods in. He shifts, glancing over his shoulder because when landing on the bed he ended up lying on his stomach, and he didn't have the energy to roll over onto his back.

There's glint behind the figure, setting the blond hair golden.

"B-Bones…?"

The figure keels over, collapsing onto hands and knees as the door shuts behind him.

Sleep is forgotten as he scrambles up, rushing to his best friend's side.

"Jim? Jim talk to me kid."

The blond is hyperventilating, hands shaking as Leonard brings him to sit upright. He can feel Jim's anxiety coming off of him in waves, his whole body trembling beneath his grasp.

How did he forget about Jim? The kid has been through hell and back again, who knows what injuries lay beneath his golden uniform.

"Bones." Jim squeaks, his breath hitching as he grips Leonard's shirt, struggling for each breath.

Jim's wheezing, eyes wide as his panic attack reaches its climax.

He snaps into action immediately. He's dealt with this before. Jim had panic attacks back in the academy days; some much worse than this even.

With practiced ease, he positions himself in front of Jim, adjusting the kid's hand to feel his chest. Then, grabbing his head, he pushes their foreheads together, closing his eyes.

"Jim, its okay, breathe with me okay?"

Jim's nodding against him, his body still shaking.

"Okay, in."

He sucks in a breath, and Jim tries to copy him, ultimately failing and starting to choke.

"Hey, hey, breathe in." Leonard instructs again, and this time Jim's successful, though he releases too quickly for his liking.

But after several attempts, his breathing begins to even out, and his body slowly starts to sag more heavily into his own. The kid's completely broken, drained of all energy as he leans against Leonard.

"That's it kid, you're alright."

He doesn't expect Jim's desperate sob. He can't even begin to fathom what is disturbing the younger man, let alone figure out what is driving him to cry openly into his receiving arms.

"Shh, it's okay." He holds him close, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and his other forcing his head down so the kid can crumble into him, sobbing helplessly.

With each cry his lungs hitch and he coughs and chokes on his tears shamelessly, all Leonard can do is turn off doctor mode and be Bones. Just to hold him close, to rock back and forth and hum the tunes he used to hum when they were both younger, both broken.

But this, Leonard doesn't even know what this is. Jim's not just upset, he's not just hurt or mourning the lost, he's broken, shattered and miserable. He's so lost it doesn't take a vulcan to feel the emotion emitting from him.

"Jim, please, what's wrong kid?" He finally says it, his voice barely above a whisper in the darkness.

Jim shakes his head into his shoulder, "It's my fault they're dead."

He closes his eyes. Despite the kid's appearance, the compassion and heart he carries his huge, he should've known Jim's heart would break with the destruction of Vulcan. He should've known Jim would take it personal, that he would blame himself.

"There's nothing more you could've done." It's all he can manage to say, and it doesn't even sound believable, even to himself.

The kid doesn't reply, he's still quivering in Leonard's arms, crying himself breathless.

And it's when the kid is sniffling that Leonard brings him to his feet, pulling him to the bed, helping the kid strip himself of his clothes, leaving him clad in his boxers.

The blond's skin is tattered with bruises; it's a miracle that he's still alive by the looks of it. Ribs definitely bruised, maybe some broken. His throat is swollen and purple, the golden uniform no longer hiding it. And with the bandage gone, his left hand has swelled back up, knuckles stiff and broken.

But the doctor mode in Leonard is gone; all that's left is his bones. Jim's Bones.

So instead of pulling out his tricorder, he brings Jim underneath the blankets with him, letting the blond curl up into his chest, with him lying on his side facing him. Jim's head tucks beneath his chin and the smaller body begins to shake as the sobs come up again.

He's just so broken, Leonard's not even sure if he can fix it. But maybe through this Jim will become better, better than anyone could've imagined. Because maybe Spock didn't break him, but still in the end Jim had been broken and like the pointy eared bastard had said, "…a stallion must first be broken to reach its potential."


	2. Chapter 2

**Breaking of a Stallion**

It hurts, everything does. He can't see, he can't hear, and he can't breathe. His world is darkness and his sense of touch has been lost, both physically and mentally. The world around him is shaking and crumbling away. Coldness is surrounding him, causing his body to shiver and for muscles to tighten around bruised bones. His mind is screaming, sprinting circles around the millions of cries that has crashed into his thoughts. Pleads, people begging, last thoughts; they're all there.

He keeps hearing them, they whisper mute cries of terror and sorrow. The voices are all distraught, caught in a reality none of them imagined.

They're not supposed to be there. He shouldn't be hearing this.

The pain is acute, sharp and stabbing in his temple. It pulses with his rapid heartbeat, and only strengthens with each raspy gasp of air his constricted lungs can handle.

It just hurts.

He tries to call out, to say something, to find Bones, but only a wheeze passes his chapped lips.

He has to calm down, he has to focus.

With cold sweat sticking to his face, matting his hair, he manages to open his eyes. He's in the viewing room, space drifting lazily in front of him. The Enterprise's engines are spurting, running off impulse power only.

He places his hands onto the metal floor, grounding himself to the present. If he closes his eyes the screams get louder and more intense.

Jim keeps staring, letting his lungs slowly expand to gather in the filtered air.

He's okay, the ship's okay.

"Captain Kirk?"

The voice that summons him is soft and uncertain.

He chokes on his words. He's on the verge of boiling over and he's not sure if he can handle a conversation with another human being, not right now, not yet.

"Kirk?"

The voice explores, footsteps coming closer.

"Kirk are you okay?"

It's Uhura, her red dress dirty, her face marked with stress from the day.

"Yeah. Fine." He manages, stuffing his hands between his bent knees, hoping to hide the shaking.

"Have you gone to Sickbay yet? I'm sure Doctor McCoy will be expecting you." Uhura continues rather cautiously.

The two of them had quite a history back at the academy. They had started off on the wrong foot, but by the end they had mutual trust and she had seen things from him that she hadn't expected. But still, their relationship wasn't stable, and Jim's certain she still thinks he's an asshole. Especially after the whole Spock's mother fiasco.

"I'll head over later. You're dismissed Lieutenant." He uses the best captainy voice he can muster, and apparently that does the job, because Uhura turns away slightly disgusted.

Jim brings a sigh, the room quiet and the cries of Vulcan's destruction ringing in his ears.

A sob that was meant to be held in escapes and he instantly puts his face in his hands, to muffle anything that comes past his mouth.

His strangled noises echo in the empty room.

"You cocky bastard…"

Uhura comes beside him.

A hand on his shoulder makes him flinch, flinch really hard.

"I'm sorry-I'm so sorry." Jim rambles, not sure to who but he says it, just to quiet the voices in his head.

The hand tries to touch him again and this time he allows it.

He's brought over onto Uhura's shoulder, to weep silently as the tears run down his face. Her hand strokes his heated neck and her other hand rubs his back.

Jim tries to calm himself down, but he only cries harder as the voices emerge, whispering into his ears.

"It's alright Jim." Uhura murmurs softly, scratching at the short hairs at his hairline.

"I messed up-I messed up so much."

There's a ragged sigh, and then he's brought upright, to face Uhura's rich brown eyes, her hair falling into her face elegantly.

"We all messed up, but it doesn't matter anymore, what does matter is what we do afterwards to make up for it." She informs him, squeezing his shoulders playfully.

He sniffs, "Thanks Uhura."

Jim gulps a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, his chest finally slowing down.

"Nyota." She grins.

Jim smiles, "Nyota."

"Do you want me to walk you to Sickbay or…?" She trails off for him to fill in the blank.

He shakes his head, "I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone I'm here. I just need to have some time to think."

Nyota nods, her eyes sad, "Alright, I can do that."

She ruffles his hair before getting up, leaving him in peace and quiet.

He watches her leave, bringing his knees closer to his chest so he can hold them there.

With a quivering breath, he lets his body settle against the wall, eyes finding the glinting stars once more. Some of the tension has melted from his body, but his mental barriers seem to have fallen away.

Spock Prime's mind-meld flashes through his head. He keeps thinking about the other him, the better him. The him that had a father, had a son, lived happily with his crew. The him that had a friendship with Spock.

Spock, damn it. The vulcan is now part of an endangered species, thanks to him.

The guilt and pain from Vulcan's destruction fill his chest again. This can't be right, why does he feel this? Why can he hear their screams? Why does he feel the ground crumbling away, giving out from beneath his feet? Why can he see his people-no the Vulcan people being crushed and sucked away? Why does this feel so real?

These memories aren't his, they aren't his thoughts and feelings.

Yet, they keep shouting, drumming up against his skull.

The sadness from the vulcans is a steady thrum, emitting like sound waves.

His heart pangs, he feels like a black hole.

Anxiety is rising, his chest is moving faster, his hands are shaking again.

It's his fault they're dead. That was all on him. He should have saved them-he should have saved more of them. He should've stopped the drill faster. He could have done better. Vulcan shouldn't have been destroyed. All of those souls, screaming alike, burning into his mind and filling his body with something that can only be explained as agony. It's agony for the dead.

He's wheezing now, tears brimming in his eyes once more.

Clenching his jaw, Jim gets up, knees wobbling so much they're smacking into each other. He bites his tongue and forces himself to walk.

He feels like he's walking on clouds, each step taking him closer to the panel.

Jim presses the button, "L-location of Chief Medical Officer, Leonard McCoy."

"CMO quarters." The machine spits out the automatic response.

With a sigh he trudges along, wanting to cover his ears to stop the vulcans from shouting in them. His ribs feel like they're collapsing in, his eyes blinking in slow motion as people pass him and wires flicker and spark above.

Once at Bones' door, he waves his hand over the scanner, feeling his body begin to fall over from exhaustion.

The second the door's open, he takes a step forward into darkness, falling onto his hands and knees as the strength is sucked away from him, "B-Bones…?"

The door shuts.

He closes his eyes, hoping that Bones really is here.

The reply comes soon enough, "Jim? Jim talk to me kid."

He can't though, he can't talk, he can't breathe. He's trembling and he's not sure how much longer he can take before he passes out.

Bones' hands grab him, hauling him upright to sit. Jim feels the bruising along his body swell up at the rough touches, and he wants to wince, but he can't even do that. Everything just hurts, and he doesn't know what to do.

He's scared.

"Bones." He breathes, grasping onto his shirt in the blackness of the room, feeling his lungs shrivel.

It's all his damn fault. Millions of vulcans dead because of him. How can he tell Bones this? He can't breathe, he's not breathing.

Bones grabs his hand, placing it on his chest, and with his other hand he grabs Jim's neck, pushing their foreheads together.

Jim just shuts his eyes, waiting to hear Bones strong sturdy voice in his ears.

"Jim, it's okay, breathe with me okay?"

He nods, feeling the world spin as oxygen escapes him.

"Okay, in."

He tries, he really does, but his lungs seem to shrink, and he coughs and chokes on the air instead, panicking further as he feels like he's about to die because he can't just breathe like a normal person.

"Hey, hey, breathe in." Bones' voice soothes, so Jim tries again, this time managing a quick breath that's more of a wheeze, but better than nothing.

Bones keeps telling him to breathe, so he keeps listening, letting his body finally calm down so he can sag into the southerner, completely drained.

"That's it kid, you're alright." Bones drawls softly.

But he's not. He's not alright. He messed up.

The sob he didn't know he was holding comes out, and once it's out he can't stop. Tears streak his face, and all he wants to do is fix everything. He just wants to be okay, he just wants everything to go back to normal.

Bones brings him closer, his strong arms wrapping around Jim's trembling body, "Shh, it's okay." The southerner pushes his head down and Jim accepts it, burying his face into Bones, sobbing.

Jim tries to stop crying, but he keeps choking on his own sobs as his body keeps expelling them from his lungs. All Bones does is squeeze him, rocking him back and forth and humming softly into the dark.

He lets this calm him, controlling his breathing as it evens out.

"Jim, please, what's wrong kid?" Bones asks quietly, his hands rubbing his back.

Jim swallows, braving himself to say it, "It's my fault they're dead." His voice feels dry and robotic, but nonetheless he said it, he got it off his chest.

"There's nothing more you could've done." The southerner says, the words sound dry and lacking their usual compassion. Maybe Bones is broken too, Jim can't blame him for that.

He doesn't reply, letting himself shiver and cry the rest of the stress out, glad for Bones' arms around him.

After a few minutes Bones helps him up. Jim feels all his muscles and bones willing him to stop, but the doctor brings him to the bed and helps him out of his uniform, leaving him shivering in his boxers.

Surprisingly Bones doesn't glance him over, doesn't bother bringing his tricorder out. Instead Bones tugs the blankets around the both of them and lets Jim press up against his chest.

Jim bites his lip. He doesn't deserve this kind of care. He should still be out in that viewing room, shaking and crying himself to sleep there on the ground, not in Bones' bed, warm and snug against him.

He cries again, he wants to stop but he just can't. He's emotionally depleted and the voices are still pleading to be saved.

Bones doesn't judge him, he just pulls Jim closer.

Jim closes his eyes, but everything just hurts.


End file.
